


light my fire baby

by icarusinflight



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2018 Icarusinflight [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Firefighter Dean Winchester, Kinda, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Well my attempt at PWP anyway, unspecified universe but probably au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 12:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14811263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: “You called for an emergency?” Dean asks.“Not really an emergency,” Castiel answers, and Dean feels a flush of irritation return at the words, when he continues “I just didn’t know what to do.”No amount of hotness will soothe away Dean’s irritation, and he barely bites back the sigh at that.These sorts of calls are usually a waste of time, but maybe this time things will work out





	light my fire baby

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Foxymoley](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/) for alpha'ing, and [Jess(ilovetodreamx](https://ilovetodreamx.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing, especially at such short notice and with a miniscule turnaround. 
> 
> Thank you also to the ProfoundBond Server, so many of you encouraged me on this when I was complaining about writing it, and y'all help me and inspire me on a daily basis. You can join us at [ProfoundBond Discord](https://discord.gg/GGbw2NP) if you wanna.
> 
> This is my first attempt at a PWP. it was somewhat of a spectacular failure clocking in at just under 4k, but I tried, and I still love it. Written for the [SPNKinkBingo](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com/)

The call was obviously frivolous.

If it were serious they would of taken the truck, but instead Dean had been sent out in his own car with instructions to ‘call for backup’ if required.

It was definitely a waste of time.

_You’re a public service officer_ Dean reminds himself, _sometimes that includes public service duties._

Dean checks his phone as he pulls into the driveway, pulling in behind an old beat up continental. The car’s seen better days — although it has probably been a piece of shit since the day it rolled off the production line. It already doesn’t bode well.

The suit is more than a little uncomfortable, and Dean is frustrated that he had to wear it for what is most likely a complete waste of time. He’s already sweating in the suit, moisture pooling underneath the hat and between his legs from the hot Kansas summer. Dean curses the sun, the heat, and mostly this stupid callout.

He steps out of the Impala, closing the door and leaning against her roof, wiping the sweat on a sleeve before placing his hat back on his head. It helps, but he’s still hot as balls, and when he sweeps his gaze around the yard and sees a man sitting on the porch — very much _not_ in distress — the frustration lights a fire in his stomach.

Or maybe that’s something else — he thinks as he approaches the man sitting on the porch. As he nears the porch he can’t help but take in the man's appearance; messy hair, a worn T-shirt, and holey jeans, none of which does anything to disguise that the man is _drop dead gorgeous._ He’s all ruffled dark hair and deep blue eyes which only widen as Dean approaches him where he sits. The guy doesn’t even move, just remains seated as Dean approaches him, craning his neck to look up at him and Dean tries to push down the thought that the man would look just this good on his knees.

“You called for an emergency?” Dean asks, when the handsome stranger remains silent, not even greeting Dean where he stands. This at least seems to spur the man into action, driving him to stand up. The man is taller than Dean now, standing on the elevated porch, and Dean turns his head to look up at him, squinting at the reflection of the sun on the windows behind him.

“Castiel,“ he offers, holding his hand out for Dean to shake.

“Dean,” he offers, reaching out his hand. Dean’s glad he didn’t take the time to put on his gloves. This way he gets to hold the man's hands and feel his smooth skin against his own, a contract to the well developed calluses he knows reside there.

“Not really an emergency,” Castiel adds, once they’ve dropped their hands, and Dean is already feeling the flush of irritation return at the words, when he continues “I just didn’t know what to do.”

No amount of hotness will soothe away Dean’s irritation, and he barely bites back the sigh at that.

“What’s your problem then?” He asks, trying for patience, although he can hear the irritation in his voice loud and clear.

“I locked myself out,” Castiel admits, and he at least has the dignity to look sheepish at that, a slight blush peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirt. However, does little to appease Dean’s temper.

“You know they have lock services for that right?” Dean points out, and Castiel drops his eyes to the ground, but Dean glares at him anyway, “The Fire Department is not at your beck and call, we have an important job to do.”

At this the man looks back up to Dean, his bright blue eyes imploring. “I know that,” he says, his voice pleading, “I just — I was locked out and I’m new to the area and I just didn’t know what to do.”

There’s an edge of desperation in his voice which is probably faked but Dean feels a flash of guilt at it anyway. He sighs, rubbing his hand over his neck and pulling the helmet from his head again.

“This is a frivolous call out,” he says, in a gentler tone this time, “You can get charged a fee for this shit. Firefighters can’t even get inside without breaking down your door, which you do not want.” He lets the words sink in for a moment, just to make sure Castiel understands before he adds, “But I’m already out here, and I reckon I can get the door open for you, as long as you don’t tell anyone, and don’t do it again.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, and his face lights up in a smile which almost makes Dean miss a breath, “I would appreciate that so much, and I won’t tell a soul.”

“You better not,” he adds, though he’s grinning now, “not everyone will be as lenient as me.” Dean smirks at Castiel. “I just need some stuff from my trunk.”

He shouldn’t be doing this, it goes against Department rules, as well as the _law_ but Dean joined the Lebanon Kansas Fire Department to help people, and right now Castiel needs his help. It definitely isn’t because Castiel makes him feel even hotter under his uniform, and that his smile makes Dean’s gut twist. Dean has maybe already thought about bending Castiel over a counter and having his way with him.

No — definitely not.

Dean returns to Castiel where he’s still standing, holding the small kit.

“Do you maybe have a back entrance we can use?” Dean asks, and it’s only once the words escape his mouth that he realises how that sounds, sees the quirk at the corner of Castiel’s mouth and he rushes to continue, “I would rather not be doing this in front of the whole neighbourhood.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow, and Dean stomach flutters.

“Of course,” Cas says. “Come round the back with me.”

Dean follows behind Cas and through a side gate, to a backyard which is small, but well maintained. Cas leads him straight to a large wooden door with a basic looking lock on it.

It shouldn’t be too hard.

Dean takes his helmet off again and places it on the back porch, before he crouches next to the door and pulls out his kit.

“What is that?” Castiel asks at the sight.

Dean winces at the question. He hasn’t had need of his lock picking kit in a while, but he keeps it for instances such as these. He’s helped more than a few friends get inside locked doors, and while he’s not proud of how he learnt the skills, he’s happy he can use them for good now.

It’s still no less of an awkward conversation though.

“Do you want to get into your house or not?” Dean grouses, shooting Cas a look which means, leave it alone — and Cas must get the point because he leaves it at that. Dean inspects the lock, and he re-evaluates the ease of the pick, though he’s still confident he can get the door open. It might take a while though, and with the sun already beating down on him Dean is already sweating in his hot suit, can feel it dripping down his back.

It’s distracting, and he huffs another sigh, standing up and unzipping the uniform in one long movement. He slips his arms out of the suit, stripping down to his waist and tucking the arms behind to keep the uniform up. His tank is already damp with sweat, but Dean already feels more comfortable partially out of the uniform, and he kneels back down in front of the lock, ready to commence his work.

It’s a delicate process as he is turns the tools with consistent force. He feels the moment when the lock hits home, a click and shudder which reverberates through the tools through his hands.

He twists the door knob, standing up and pushing the door open with a yelp of satisfaction before turning to Castiel, ready to celebrate his success.

Castiel is looking at Dean with something — possibly awe. Yet what surprises Dean is that he’s not even looking at the door, his eyes locked on Dean, and definitely drifting a little further south than his face.

“I’m all done,” Dean reminds Castiel, and Castiel's eyes jerk up to meet his own. Castiel’s neck is flushed again and Dean feels his own skin heating up under his attention, and he hopes the sun and heat masks his own blush.

“Do you want to come in?” Castiel asks, out of nowhere and before Dean can ask it, “you look hot, you must be thirsty.”

Dean is hot and thirsty, so much so that he considers the suggestion. He’s off the clock now, and he can’t deny how much he wants to take Castiel up on the offer.

“Unless you need to get back to work?” Castiel adds, and Dean hears a hint of disappointment in his voice, and that seals it for Dean.

“Nah,” Dean says, putting his picks away in the kit and zipping it up. “I’m off the clock now, I guess I could come in for a bit.”

“Great,” Castiel walks up to him, and Dean steps back. to allow him access. His arm still brushes against Dean’s however, his elbow grazing Dean’s bicep as he squeezes past.

He holds the door open for Dean. “Come in.”

Dean silently follows Castiel inside to the kitchen, casting his eyes around the room as Castiel moves around it with a familiar ease. He pulls a glass from the cupboard, filling it before passing it over to Dean, who drinks it down eagerly. He is thirsty, and he chugs it down in large gulps. When he places the glass down Castiel is staring again, eyes wide and Dean knows this time that the flush he feels on his face has nothing to do with the heat of the sun.

“You still look hot,” Castiel says, and Dean ducks his face, trying to hide the heat in his cheeks. “Let me get you a cloth.”

Castiel is gone before Dean can say something, and when he returns it’s with a washcloth in his hand. Dean expects Castiel to pass the cloth off to him, but when Castiel holds it up to his face, brushing the cloth against his face Dean can’t help the gasp he releases — half shock, half relief.

Castiel doesn’t pause his ministrations, swiping the cloth across Dean’s brow, before moving the cloth to his cheeks. Dean closes his eyes in relief, focusing on the feel of the cloth, the cool touch of it against his hot skin. The clothe is soothing — cooling his skin and it moves to his neck, rubbing against his nape in a way that causes his mouth to fall open on a gasp at the pressure on such a sensitive area. The progress of the cloth stops immediately.

Dean’s eyes fly open and he’s not sure what he’s expecting to see, but it sure isn’t Castiel with his pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open.

Dean’s hand shoots up, gripping Castiel’s wrist, keeping his hand pinned to his neck.

Using his hold on Castiel’s wrist, he pushes the other man back, into the kitchen bench behind him. Dean shifts his own body to press in close against Castiel’s, and he can already feel the evidence of Castiel’s interest pressing into him.

“Do you want this?” He asks, rolling his hips to demonstrate the point. His own dick is rapidly joining the party, blood rushing south.

Castiel nods and it’s all the permission Dean needs. He moves quickly, pressing his body tighter as he crushes his lips into Castiel’s. It’s hard, and a little rough, but it feels so good. Dean can’t help the groan he releases, smothering the noise into Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel seems to take that as a request for access to his mouth, opening his lips beneath Dean’s. Dean doesn’t hesitate, slipping his tongue into Castiel’s mouth eagerly. The cloth slips from Castiel’s hand, and then it’s just his hand gripping Dean’s neck, holding him in tight. Dean’s spare hand comes up to Castiel’s waist, fingers skirting underneath Castiel’s shirt to brush against his skin. Once he’s started touching Dean can’t stop; he releases his hold on Castiel’s wrist to bring both of his hands to grip Castiel’s waist tight.

Dean pushes in tighter, slipping his leg between Castiel’s, feeling the hard length of Castiel’s cock against it. Castiel breaks the kiss to let out a filthy groan directly into Dean’s ear. The noises Castiel makes is ridiculous, and like liquid fire straight to his groin. Dean wants to keep hearing them, so he takes the opportunity to kiss the corner of Castiel’s lips, moving to his jaw and leaving messy sloppy kisses along the line of it until he reaches the join of his jaw bone. He takes Castiel’s earlobe into his mouth, and his dick jumps when Castiel makes the noise again. He presses his leg in harder again, wanting to give and receive pressure.

Castiel’s hand moves from his neck, sliding up to his hair and he uses the grip to pull Dean’s head away from his ear. Dean releases a noise of frustration which sounds suspiciously like a whine even to his own ears.

“Couch,” Castiel says, his words coming out in gasps. “I have lube there.”

Dean thinks his brain deserts him for a moment, unable to process the words. When it comes back on board he’s all action, sliding his hands down to Castiel’s ass to cup tight, pulling the other man against him as he lifts his body, shifting Castiel’s weight so Dean can carry it.

Castiel yelps, wrapping his spare arm and legs around Dean’s body. The hand in his hair tightens and a groan forces its way out of his mouth before Dean can even think to try to contain it.

Dean carries Castiel as fast as he dares to the couch, before depositing the other man on it. A little unceremoniously sure — but Castiel doesn’t seem to mind it. Castiel reaches for the lube with one hand already starting to unbutton his jeans with the other. Dean’s untying the sleeves, preparing to strip out of his jumpsuit, when Castiel’s hand comes to rest on his, stopping his progress.

“You should leave them on,” Castiel says, the flush stretching up to his cheeks as he says it. Dean nods, and Castiel arches his back in a way which makes Dean’s mouth run dry, and then he’s swinging his legs round to place his feet on the ground. When he stands he pushes Dean back onto the couch until he sits down, and Dean’s left looking up at this gift of a man who apparently wants Dean to keep his pants _on._

Castiel presses the lube into his hand, before leaning back. “Open your suit up, but leave it on,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative and Dean and his cock are so on board with this. “I want you to fuck me while you’re still in the uniform.”

Dean’s not going to argue with that. If Castiel wants Dean to fuck him in the suit, then Dean is going to make it happen.

Dean sheds his tank and unties his sleeves and the rest of his zip, but doesn’t push his pants down yet. He doesn’t think he could resist touching himself if he did, not with the gorgeous man in front of him. A gorgeous man who strips his shirt, throwing it across the room, before shimmying out of his loose jeans. Dean’s barely paying attention to his task as he flicks open the cap, squirting lube with practised ease onto his fingers, before dropping the tube on the couch next to him. He rubs the lube between his fingers to warm it as he watches the show in front of him, swallowing heavily when Castiel is finally naked. Castiel is toned and tanned, and Dean can’t wait to touch _all of him._

He needn’t have worried about his suit, because as soon Castiel is done with his own clothes he steps in, pulling at Dean’s suit until his cock is revealed. Like it’s some sort of messed up — or maybe amazing — Christmas present.

“I want to ride that,” Castiel says, and laughing a little when Dean’s dick twitches in response.

“Come here.” The words come out huskier than Dean intends, voice dropping from his own arousal. Castiel steps in, spreading his legs wide as he straddles Dean on the couch. His erection bounces against Dean’s stomach, ass bumping against Dean’s and Dean can’t help but hiss at the touch.

Dean brings his clean hand to grip at Castiel’s hip, fingers gripping tight enough he thinks they might leave bruises. His other hand slides down, lubricated fingers seeking Castiel’s hole. Castiel gasps when Dean’s fingers hit home, arching his back as he presses back into Dean’s fingers.

He massages the muscle, spreading the lube around and letting Castiel's’ body relax, a little, and when Castiel sighs deeply Dean presses a finger inside.

Castiel gasps, pushing forward into Dean, burying his head into Dean’s shoulder, and Dean leans forward, taking Castiel’s skin between his teeth and biting down, just enough to pull at the skin. He rolls the skin beneath his teeth as he thrusts his finger in, lubricant easing the way. When he slips another finger inside Dean bites down harder, and Castiel groans low and loud right into his ear, a sound Dean could listen to all day.

He thrusts his fingers in and out, spreading them and scissoring them as he does so. Castiel’s breathing is coming in hot and heavy, and he’s riding Dean’s fingers, rolling his hips in time with Dean’s thrusts. Dean can feel Castiel’s cock already weeping against his stomach, and when he slides another finger inside Castiel’s breath hitches and his hips stutter, movement failing.

Dean tightens his hold on Castiel’s hip, holding him tight and still as he thrusts his fingers in deep, searching for that sweet spot. The body twitch lets Dean knows he’s found his mark, as much as the moan Castiel breathes against his ear.

“I’m ready,” Castiel gasps, “please, Dean I’m ready.”

Dean groans into Castiel’s shoulder at the words as he pulls his fingers free of Castiel’s body, hand releasing Castiel’s hip to search blindly for the lube. When he finds it he squirts another helping onto his fingers, and he shivers at the coolness of it when he spreads it on his dick, but he doesn’t have the time to wait.

His hand holds Castiel’s hip as Dean holds his dick, lining himself up, and then Castiel is lowering himself down onto his cock. Castiel is tight, and hot, and the groan that he releases is drowned out by Castiel’s own moans. Dean releases his hand on his cock to bring it to grip at Castiel’s hip as he lets Castiel control his own descent. When he’s fully seated Dean closes his eyes tight, blocking out everything except the feeling of Castiel surrounding him. Castiel surrounds him in every way, ass around his cock, arms on his shoulders, and legs bracketing him, and Dean can’t help but feel like it can’t get much better than this.

Dean’s aching for it and not even remotely ready for it when Castiel starts moving, thighs tensing around him as he pushes up, before dropping back down, riding Dean’s dick like he was made for it. Dean’s been so hard it almost hurt since they started making out in the kitchen, so he lets his body taking over, rolling his hips up to meet Castiel on the downward strokes, and the movement punches gasps out of them both. Castiel’s dick is still rubbing on his stomach, weeping and lubricating it’s path against the skin. Dean knows he should at least get a hand on it, could help Castiel out but Dean is reluctant to remove his hands from Castiel’s hips, and judging by his breathing he’s getting close without it.

Not that Dean is close behind, he can feel the heat pooling in his stomach, and the pressure building, increasing with every push inside Castiel’s ass. He doesn’t want to be the first one and thinks he might need to try and force himself to stop, or get a hand on Castiel to help him along. The thoughts barely flashed through his mind when Castiel’s thrusts start getting jerky, and he’s hiccuping breaths, and squeezing even tighter around Dean, when Dean feels the splash of something hot against his stomach. Castiel slumps forward, breathing heavily against Dean’s shoulder, as he pulses around Dean. Dean plants his feet, and thrusts into Castiel’s ass, maybe three, four times, and then it’s all over as Dean thrust deep, holding tight as he comes in Castiel’s ass.

It takes a moment before Dean can think at all, let alone think to move, but when he feels Castiel’s legs shaking around him, either from the orgasm, the strain from holding himself up, or a little of both, Dean knows he needs to move. Holding his hands tight on Castiel he moves Castiel until he slips out, twin groans sounding out at the feeling of his dick sliding from Cas’s ass. He wraps his arms tight around Cas, mindless of the sweat as he pulls Cas tight and using the hold to drag him along to lie down on the couch. The couch is too small for two grown ass men, but Dean can’t bring himself to care about that, as his hands sweep across Cas’s back, stroking the muscles there as their breathing slows.

“We could move to the bed?” Cas asks, and Dean hasn't even caught his breath yet, chest still heaving from the strain and his recent orgasm. He's not ready to move, not by far, and he groans at the mere thought of it.

“Later,” he grumbles, “Much later. And I need a shower first.”

He can feel the sweat on his skin and can smell it under the mixed scent of lube and sex and _Cas_. But they're past being self conscious, and if Cas wants to cuddle he will — but he draws the line at taking this to the bed. Instead Dean wraps his arms tighter around Cas cocooning him in his arms and placing a kiss in his hair.

“Thank you,” he whispers into Cas's hair. “That was fun.”

“Was it everything you wanted?” Cas asks, his hands coming up to stroke Dean's shoulders, fingers rubbing in the sweat there.

“Entirely,” Dean says, “uniform was worth every dollar, although it was hot as balls underneath it.”

“Mmmm,” Cas groans, “That was the best part.”

“Next time,” Dean says, speaking the words into Cas's hair, “You should be the one dressed up. I think you'd make a hot doctor.”

“I'm not Dr Sexy.”

“You could be _my_ Dr Sexy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!  
> Let me know if you enjoyed the twist!
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life  
> Find me at tumblr at [candybarrnerd](http://candybarrnerd.tumblr.com/)


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